Mrs Snape's Diary
by Nymmie
Summary: A unique sort of romance... A young girl discovers a diary in Professor Snape's office and in turn discovers more about Professor Snape himself. COMPLETE!
1. Detention

I remember the days when I dreaded Potions class. I think I would have done anything to get out of it, but when I did manage to fake projectile vomiting or a gushing bloody nose, thanks to the Weasley brothers of course, I would always fall more deeply into the hole that is homework. I can recall on many occasions being scolded for my father for getting such a poor grade on an exam because I had been "sick" when we covered the Toad Tongue Draught or the Olfaction Potion. Who needs to know how to make such useless potions anyway? Apparently Professor Snape did, and I loathed him for that. I hated Snape so much that I shook with anger whenever I thought of him. Before I had come to Hogwarts I always had excellent marks in my muggle Primary School. My muggle teachers always said that I was "gifted". Back then I never would have thought that I would be receiving a "Dreadful" on anything I did in school. I could take that, it made me furious, sure, but at least a Dreadful isn't taking things too personal. It was when Professor Snape decided to write a little note on one of my assignments that pushed me over the edge. I'll admit it, I snapped. On any other occasion I would have never had the guts to storm into the middle of a Potions class, with Slytherins none the less! But this was different. I had worked for hours and hours on my report about Wolfsbane. It was exactly the right length and had in it exactly everything that Professor Snape asked for. It was on time and in order, but when I got it back I was shocked to see a big red zero at the top, and a hastily scribbled note below. It read:  
  
"Meta Cockerham is a disgrace to the wizarding world and this report proves it. She receives a zero for this positively pathetic excuse for a paper."  
  
I stormed into the classroom and walked right up to Professor Snape, who was inspecting a Slytherin girl's cauldron.   
  
"THIS IS RUBBISH!" The class all fell silent and turned to look at me. I was too angry to care. "This grade is rubbish, and YOU ARE RUBBISH!"  
  
Professor Snape looked up from the cauldron. His lip curled slightly but he didn't say a word.   
  
"I demand that you give me the grade I deserve. Now take it back and re-grade it!" I shoved the paper in his face. He took it in his white hands but didn't look at it.   
  
"Fifty points from Ravenclaw," he snarled, "and a weeks detention. THAT is what you deserve. Oh, and I'll be having a chat with the Headmaster and your parents about this little…tantrum." I opened my mouth to reply but before I could say a word he hissed, "Now get out of my classroom. You are disrupting these REAL pupils."  
  
As I stormed out, my fists clenched, I saw out of the corner of my eye, my beautiful paper being ripped to shreds.  
  
The next day was even worse. At breakfast I received a Howler from my father for getting a poor grade and getting in trouble for my outburst. Even if not everyone knew about my outburst before, they certainly could hear my father's voice yelling for ten whole minutes. I was so flustered over the Howler that in Transfiguration I accidentally beheaded my rooster, which I was supposed to be turning into an alarm clock. Professor McGonnagall spent nearly half the class trying to get the headless chicken under control. I wanted to die already, and it wasn't even lunchtime yet. The worst part of my day, however, was detention. I arrived in Snape's dungeon promptly at 8 p.m., only to be told that I was two minutes late and therefore would have to stay two extra hours to make up for it.  
  
"But that will be past midnight! Won't you have to sleep Professor?"  
  
"I don't sleep." He said, and glared at me.  
  
The actual punishment wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. My job that day was to pull the wings off of dead Sharp-Winged Bats. The name says it all, by 9 o' clock my hands were scratched and bleeding from the spikes that stuck out of the bats' wings. All the while Snape lurked around, coming out of his office to see what mistakes I had made.  
"You are getting lazy. You haven't gotten the shoulder joint in half of these. You'll have to de-wing twenty more to make up for that."  
  
"You know," I whispered to the pile of dead bats, "I used to feel sorry for you guys because you are dead, but now I'm jealous. I'd rather have someone pulling off all of my limbs than be near him."  
  
The next night wasn't a barrel of laughs either. I had to stay until nearly two-thirty in the morning because I had not been labeling the jars of ingredients properly. "The label should be exactly in the middle! Have you been measuring these at all? Start over!"  
  
"Like you even care how neat your ingredient jars are. Look at your hair." I muttered when he stormed back into his office and slammed the door.  
  
By Wednesday I was so physically and emotionally exhausted that I was constantly on the verge of tears. Professor Snape had me cataloging and organizing all of his books that night. It was much better than pulling wings off of bats, and by ten I had managed to not get severely scolded. I was up to the P books when I found an untitled book. It was small and bound in red dragon hide. I opened it and the name embossed on the inside cover read Berthe H. Kelty.  
  
"A diary," I whispered to myself. It turned it over and over in my hands, afraid to read any of what was written. Why did Snape have some woman's diary? I shoved it in the pocket of my robes when I heard his footsteps and tried to look busy as he yelled at me for mixing around "Potions for the Extraordinary Wizard" and "Potions, Potions: A History and Chronicle of Their Importance".  
  
"Can't you even alphabetize?" He shouted.  
  
  



	2. Berthe

That night, after I had shuffled, exhausted, back to the Ravenclaw common room, and crawled into bed, I remembered the diary. I reached for my wand and held it up.  
  
"Lumos," I said as I reached into my robes for the book. I laid it on the bed and sat staring at it for some time. I was afraid to open it, I wasn't really sure why. I now know that I probably had an idea of the secrets that it held, and the impact they would have on my life... on other's lives. After some moments, I finally turned the first page, my hands shaking from tiredness and anxiety.  
  
The parchment looked old and yellowed. At the top of the page, written in deep violet ink was the date, April 23, but no year. I began to read.  
  
Dear Diary,  
My mother gave me this diary for my seventeenth birthday. Aren't you lovely? I promise to write in here at least once a week, if not more. So many things have been happening lately that I am quite positive this journal will be full within a few months. I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself, since we have just met. As I just said, I am newly seventeen years old. I live with my mother and father, and little brother Benjamin. I call him Benji, but he scolds me when I do, because he says he is far too old for that pet name. He is only twelve, not at all old! We make a nice, respectable family, I believe. We are, for the most part, very happy.  
  
And now I should get to the juicy bits. You'll never guess; I've just met a wonderful boy who says he lives down the street. He's just moved in and his name is Harold Shue. I think he is just a darling! He's the sweetest boy I've ever met. Most of them are such brutes and show offs, but not Harold. He's a dear.  
  
Oh, tut, I have to go, I hear Mum calling for dinner.  
  
Cheers!  
  
Berthe  
  
The diary went on this way for several more pages, Berthe spoke about Harold in nearly every sentence, about how wonderful he was and how she was seeing him more and more. One day, she wrote, in a flushed sort of way, that she had gotten her very first kiss.  
  
It was just a peck on the lips, nothing more, but it felt like electricity! I can't wait to see Harold again...  
  
Then, suddenly, all talk of Harold ceased. I reread many pages, looking for something, some sign of why she spoke of Harold no longer, but I found nothing. The entries became increasingly gloomy and scattered. Sometimes, Berthe would not write for months at a time, and when she did again, the entries were usually short and undetailed.  
  
The family is well. The weather is dreadful.  
  
Then, on November 7th, she wrote,  
  
I fear that I have not been honest with you diary... but it is hard to say... I couldn't even tell my family for the longest time. All I feel is shame, especially when I look at you and I read my earlier entries. I was so foolish then. I will tell you, but not now. I can't seem to write the words...  
  
She did not write again until January.  
  
It is time to tell you the truth now, because it is all said and done. I have married a man... not Harold... His name is Snape... he is a horrible, horrible man, but he was the only one who would take me... in my condition... My parents said it was the only thing to do. I had to marry before I had the child... Harold's child. I do not know this man at all! I do not even know his first name; I just call him Mr. Snape. I am so afraid of him, diary. My son and I are moving to his house tomorrow. Oh, how did I get myself into this mess? My mother cried and cried when I told her the truth a few months ago. I had kept it hidden for a while, but I knew I couldn't hide forever. I have been so, so foolish. Mother says that I will grow to love him and my son. My father can't look at the child or me. Benji hides in his treehouse day and night. What have I done to our family?  
  
I stared at the page for quite some time, finally realizing that the sun was rising. I had been reading the diary all night. I snapped it shut, though I could hardly resist turning the page and reading on. I had to sleep, I told myself. I had to, even for just an hour. But I could hardly shake the thoughts that were twirling in my head. Could Professor Snape be a husband, a father?  
  



	3. Truth

The next day I was so exhausted from staying up practically the whole night before that I seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. By lunchtime I had become a walking zombie. I'm surprised I had even managed to get through Transfiguration and Charms without causing a national catastrophe. I only had one desire... sleep. But I knew that if I closed my eyes for even one minute I would surely not wake up until the next afternoon. So I choked down a few bites of mince pie and some swallows of pumpkin juice and made my way to my last class that day-- Potions.  
  
My previous nights of detention had not brought me any closer to Professor Snape, in fact, I thought that he hated me even more. If only I had not said anything about my paper. I thought. Then he wouldn't notice me like before... but now he hates me. Oh, how blissful those days of invisibility were. I walked to my normal seat near the back of the dungeons and sat next to a boy named Franco Polley.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Franco asked. "You look white as a sheet. And you've got great big dark circles around your eyes."  
  
"Thanks bunches, Franco," I muttered and sat down. Just as I was sitting down I heard a quiet voice behind me.  
  
"Miss Cockerham, a word."  
  
I spun around and came face to face with Professor Snape.  
  
"Yes, Professor?" I asked as I followed him to his desk. He lowered his voice to practically a whisper and said,  
  
"I'm missing a personal effect, Miss Cockerham."  
  
At first I didn't realize what he meant. My mind was fuzzy and clouded. Then it hit me: the diary! He knew!  
  
"Er...well, that's too bad Professor." I replied weakly, trying to sound sincere.  
  
Snape's lip curled and he continued to stare at me.  
  
"Don't toy with me," he snarled. "I know you have it and if you don't give it back I'll be forced to--" he broke off as a loud crash came from the back of the room.  
  
"Sorry, Professor!" Franco cried. He had knocked over his cauldron, which was full of the potion that the class had been assigned on the board. Franco clumsily tried to mop it up with Leila McHedgridge's scarf.  
  
"Hey!" Leila yelled, jumping up and trying to grab the scarf back. "That's my favorite Chudley Cannons scarf! Franco, you twat!"  
  
Franco's attempts to stop the spill were unsuccessful because the potion he was working on was very acidic. Leila screamed as her scarf began to burn through where the liquid had gotten on it. A green smoke was coming from the scarf.  
  
"Eurgh!" Franco yelled and quickly dropped the scarf, but he was too late. The potion got on his hands and began to eat through his skin.  
  
"Polley! You fool!" Professor Snape yelled. "How many times have I told you? Frog's finger potion is extremely dangerous!" Franco moaned; his hands were getting worse.  
  
"Professor," Leila screamed, finally over her scarf. "If he doesn't get help soon it will melt his hands off!" Franco moaned again.  
  
"I'll take him to Madam Pomfrey!" I said, and ran over to Franco.  
  
"I'm sure Polley can find his own way, Miss Cockerham." Snape sneered, remembering me again.  
  
"No, no, I'm sure he needs my help. Look at him!" Franco was practically screaming now. "Come on, Franco," I hurried him past Professor Snape who was scowling horribly. By the time I was back from the hospital wing, Snape was in depth in his lecture and only looked up for a second when I came back in.  
  
  
Later that afternoon, I threw my bag down on my bed and reached under the mattress for the diary. I took it out and began to read, but before I could even find the page I had left off on I heard footsteps coming toward the dormitory. I quickly slammed the book shut and shoved it back under the bed covers.  
  
"Meta," Leila called. "Oh, there you are! I've been looking all over for you. Franco is back from the hospital wing; you've got to come see his hands! Madam Pomfrey had to regrow one of his fingers. It's all green and stubby!" She said excitedly, pantomiming with her own pink finger.  
  
I couldn't very well say, "No, thanks" especially not to a stubby green finger. I frowned as I followed Leila out of the dormitory. I wanted to read the diary! I had to... who knows when Snape would get it back, and then I would never know what happened.  
  
Before I knew it, it was 5 o'clock and I had to go to detention. Franco would not let me leave. He kept thanking me profusely and making me tell everyone what had happened.  
  
"Really, Franco, it was nothing." I mumbled. "But I really have to go now... detention, you know."  
  
"Okay," Franco said with the look with admiration still on his face. "See you!"  
  
"Yeah... See you Franco."  
  
I almost considered running away, stunning myself, or even throwing myself in the school lake with peanut butter rubbed all over myself so that the giant squid would eat me. I stood outside the dungeon door until Snape thrust it open in my face.  
  
"Miss Cockerham, in." He had an eerie calmness about him. It frightened me almost to death, because with Snape, silence was worse than yelling. I walked in, trembling.  
  
"Sit."  
  
I obeyed him like a dog and sat at the table he pointed to.  
  
"You have something that belongs to me," he said through clenched teeth.  
  
"I-I don't," I mumbled.  
  
He put both hands on the desk and leaned down towards me. His nose was almost touching mine.  
  
"I know you do." He said in a deadly tone. I looked down at his hands. His knuckles were white from gripping the table. He noticed me looking at them and backed away. He turned his back towards me for a moment, then spun around with a look of pure fury on his face.  
  
"Give. It. Back. I know you took it!"  
  
"Took- took wh-what, Professor?"  
  
"THE BOOK!" He snarled. "The book! The diary... my..."  
  
"I-I didn't--"  
  
"You miserable, stupid, brat!" I jumped back as he shouted at me and almost fell over in my chair.  
  
"Professor--I, I didn't take anything of yours."  
  
"Liar!" He spat. "Give it back to me now and we'll forget this ever happened. I won't go to Dumbledore."  
  
"I don't know what--" I tried to say, but I knew I was losing.  
  
"I'll go to your father." Snape said. "I'll speak to him about this."  
  
"NO!" I shouted. My cover was blown. "No! Please, no! I can't bear him yelling at me again, I can't!" I closed my mouth and put my hand up to it, surprised at myself for shouting that out. An odd look flashed over Snape's face for a second, but only a second. The anger quickly reappeared.  
  
"Fine!" I was more terrified of my father's disapproval than anything Snape could do to me. "Fine!" I yelled again, still trembling. "I did take it! And I read it too, and I only have one thing to say; you and my father have something in common. You both treat your children like scum!"  
  
"What?" The sneer disappeared off of Snape's face. He looked genuinely shocked.  
  
"That's right! And you treated your wife like scum, too. I read it. She hated you. She was terrified of you! She thought that you were disgusting, just like I do!"  
  
Snape stood there for a moment, looking at me, too shocked to answer. Finally he replied in a quiet, almost sad voice.  
  
"Obviously, you didn't finish reading it. That was my mother's diary. The brute you are speaking of was my father... the only father I knew at least... You really shouldn't jump to such conclusions, Miss Cockerham."  
  
I opened my mouth to speak. I suddenly felt very sheepish, sorry even.  
  
"No." He said softly. "Don't say another word. You are dismissed for tonight. Bring it back with you tomorrow."  
  
"Prof--"  
  
"Get out, Miss Cockerham." He pushed me gently, yet forcefully out the door. I turned around as he was shutting the door just in time to see his face. I'll never forget that pained expression. Never, as long as I live.  
  



	4. Fathers

I felt guilty, so guilty, and then angry for feeling that way, about Snape, of all people. At first I refused to believe that he was telling the truth. He's lying, I thought, as I headed back to the Ravenclaw common rooms. He must be lying. I'll go back and read the rest. I'll find proof that I am right. But I knew deep down that Snape was telling the truth, and I also knew that I would never read another page of that diary. It was private; I realized that now. I do not know why I didn't realize that before. Perhaps it was the memory of the look on Professor Snape's face. The look that showed, finally, that Severus Snape was, in fact, human. He is a man who feels. He feels sadness, shame, and regret, just like everyone else. I had come to know that as truth, and this truth circled around and around in my head as I drifted off to sleep that night, the diary of Severus Snape's mother still under my mattress.  
  
The next day was another difficult one. I grew more and more anxious by the minute. I skipped meals, for fear of seeing Professor Snape in the Great Hall. I avoided going anywhere near the dungeons or even the possible paths Snape might have to take to get from them to the Great Halls or other places. I spent what little energy I had on avoiding him. I felt color rise to my cheeks every time I thought about him. I felt like such a fool. I was humiliated and ashamed of myself for stealing the diary, and then for reading it. I felt sick to my stomach every time the words I had said to him echoed in my head.  
  
"She thought that you were disgusting, just like I do!"  
  
I had told him that I thought he was disgusting and he did not yell, or scream, or take points from Ravenclaw. The memory of his calm and composed manner made me feel even worse. But why did I seem to care so much about the feelings of a man I hated? Or thought I hated…  
  
Finally, it was five. Detention. I walked slowly to the dungeons with the diary clasped in my hands. I was nervous, so nervous. I couldn't bear to face him. Perhaps I could throw the diary in the doorway and run, run as fast as my legs would take me. No, I decided. I made a mistake and it was time to correct it. I took a deep breath and tapped lightly on the door.  
  
"Enter." A voice called. I opened the door and walked in. "Shut the door."  
  
"Yes, sir," I mumbled and shut it. I couldn't stop looking down at my feet. I couldn't look up. I couldn't look at his face. If I did, I knew I would do something rash.   
  
Professor Snape walked toward me and held out his hand. I placed the diary in it, keeping my head down. A few seconds passed in silence, then to my surprise, Snape opened the diary and began to read aloud.  
  
" 'Dear Diary. I fear that today is the last day I will ever write to you.' "  
  
"Professor, please. Please stop. I don't want to hear it."  
  
"You wanted to hear it before, didn't you? You read as much as you could, all of the details… Well, you can't just read part of something. Every book must be finished."  
  
He had such a determined look on his face that I was afraid to speak, but I couldn't bear to hear the last words of the young girl I had grown to know, to love.  
  
"I'm sorry Professor!" I was desperate to make him stop. I took a few steps closer to him and pleaded again. "Please, I am sorry. I am so sorry that I stole your mother's diary and read it, and made such horrible assumptions about you. I am so sorry Professor. Please, please don't read the rest. I can't bear to hear it."  
  
He simply stared at me, his face cold and lacking in emotion. After a moment he looked back down at the small book. He read again.  
  
" 'I can not write any further. My husband, if I can call him that, is ruthless. He is cold and dark. I fear him more and more each minute. These are dark times, diary. I fear for my life, and for my son Severus' life. My poor, poor Severus, if you should ever read this, please understand why I have chosen to write no further. I do not want these words to pain you, and I fear that if I do not put an end to my writing, I will only fill your heart with sorrow. So I leave you now Severus,' " Snape paused for a second and swallowed. " 'I leave you now as myself. I know that you need me in the physical sense, but I feel I am leaving my body now. The mother you will know after I finish this entry will be an empty shell. I am so sorry Severus. I wish I were stronger. I wish I could do more for you.' "  
  
He looked up from the book for a brief moment, then slammed the diary shut.  
  
"So there you have it."  
  
"I thought, I thought," I struggled to find the words. Snape was so close to me that he seemed to be hovering over me. I could feel my cheeks beginning to burn. Oh, stop, stop! I tried to tell myself. Calm down, don't work yourself into a tizzy. I set my jaw and looked up into his face.  
  
"I thought that your mother was going to kill herself." I said as calmly as possible.   
  
"Oh, no," he replied, in an almost sarcastic tone. "She never killed herself. She lived with him-that man," he said. An intense look of hatred swept over his face that I had never seen before. "My father." He finished.  
  
There was a brief moment of awkward silence. These new thoughts were clouding my brain. Snape's mother deserted him, without ever physically leaving him. This was a new concept to me. She left him to fend for himself; she left him with his father…  
  
"Father," I whispered, unconsciously.  
  
"What?"   
  
"My father… Well, your father and my father have a few things in common." I said quickly. Snape only looked at me. I couldn't read his expression. I went on, not truly knowing what I was doing. "My father drove my mother away. He treated her so badly that she, she left us." I paused and looked down at my feet. "And then… then she killed herself." I said, barely above a whisper. I heard a sharp intake of breath, but Snape said nothing. I didn't know why on earth I was telling him these personal things… I never spoke of my mother to anyone, but with him, it was somehow different. I continued on. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I read your mother's diary. At first I was just curious, but then, well, I felt like it was a sort of, window. A window into my own mother's feelings. She never told me anything because I was so young when she was still with me. I guess we have something in common." I finished, finally looking up.  
  
I was surprised to see that instead of his usual angry sneer, Snape's features had softened. His eyebrows were not furrowed but relaxed. His mouth was not curled into its usual sneer, but partially open, as if he were about to say something. In his eyes was a look of compassion.  
  
"Miss Cockerham," he began to say, but at the sound of his voice saying my name, I broke down.  
  
The combination of exhaustion (I had not really slept in a week), and the stirring up of painful memories destroyed all of my defenses. I began to cry, something I vowed I would never do in front of anyone, especially not Professor Snape. I wanted to run and hide. I expected Snape to begin his rampage against me. He did not put up with any sniveling of any sort and he certainly didn't show weaklings any pity. I braced myself for an attack, but instead of shouting at me, I felt Snape put his hand on my shoulder, cautiously at first, but when I didn't pull away, he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. I was confused, but I felt safe in his arms. I relaxed and he let me cry into his robes for quite some time.  
  



	5. Friends

When I finally realized where I was, and whose arms I was in, I cautiously stepped back and attempted to wipe my eyes with the sleeves of my robes. I wasn't really sure how much time had passed but I suspected that Snape had been holding me patiently for at least half an hour.  
  
"I'm being silly," I muttered in a throaty voice. That's the understatement of the year, I thought to myself.   
  
"Not more than usual," he replied, handing me a handkerchief. Instead of his usual saracastic tones, his response seemed to actually be good natured. Snape, making a joke? How odd... Despite myself I felt the corners of my mouth make a very small smile for a fleeting moment before my brain shooed it away.  
  
"No, really, I'm sure you haven't got time for this nonsense. I should be getting to work now. What was it that you wanted me to do tonight, Professor?" I said, trying to regain my composure and a tiny shred of dignity.  
  
"Nothing, Meta--Miss Cockerham," he quickly corrected. "I think we've had enough excitement for one night..." For once Snape looked, well, slightly embarrassed. "Oh, and this was your last detention." He said looking down at the diary in his hands. "So, you are excused now. I will see you on Monday. Don't forget that report on the uses of Monkey's Paw." He added.  
  
I made for the door and was reaching for the handle when he softly called out,  
  
"I'm sorry about your mother, Miss Cockerham."  
  
I turned back to him, and, somehow, even with the funny fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach, managed to say,   
  
"And yours, Professor." He nodded, as if to say 'thank you' and I left the classroom. From that moment on I developed a very unique friendship with the Potions Professor, though it would take me quite some time to realize how unique it was.  
  
As I was climbing the stairs to the third floor I suddenly realized that I had been clutching Professor Snape's handkerchief in my left hand. I unclenched it and stopped on the staircase. I held it up in front of my face, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles. It was emerald green silk and in the corner embroidered in black threat in a very elegant, but modest scrip were the letters 'S.S.' I impulsively clasped the cloth to my chest for a moment before carefully folding it up and putting it in my pocket.  
  
A few minutes later I reached my dormitory and silently changed into my pajamas, not wanting to wake anyone. I crept into my bed for the first decent sleep in a week, and for once, a feeling of peace and contentment filled my dreams.  



	6. Points

Things were finally looking up. After a weekend of relaxation, and no fear or guilt looming over my shoulders, I could begin to concentrate on my schoolwork again. Monday went by well, without a hitch, and I finished most of my homework that night.  
  
"I feel good about this paper for Binns," I told Franco during dinner.  
  
"I don't," said Franco glumly. He was picking at his potatoes with his fork. "I haven't started it yet."  
  
"Franco, it's due on Wednesday! And it's quite long too."  
  
"I know, I know… I just can never start reports, you know? I just sit there and stare at the big, blank piece of parchment for hours, hoping that something will come to me."  
  
"Some people just have a hard time with words, that's all," I said, as we got up and left the Great Hall.  
  
"Yeah, and some people are just stupid. You're a perfect example, Polley."  
  
I spun around and saw a sixth year Slytherin by the name of Martin Malone.  
  
"Leave us alone."  
  
"No, I don't think I will, Cockerham," he sneered.  
  
Martin was a large boy. His size and stature could scare not only first and second years, but seventh years as well. Even Professor Flitwick was afraid of him. He had dark brown hair and squinty blue eyes. His face and arms were covered with freckles and he had large sideburns going all the way down the side of his face.  
  
"What have we ever done to you, Martin?" I asked, almost pleadingly.  
  
"Nothing," he smiled.  
  
"Then leave us ALONE!"  
  
"No."  
  
"You're such a bully. You've been bothering Franco and me since our first year. Haven't you got anything better to do?" I yelled.  
  
"Yeah," he said slowly, "But I really need to brush up on my punching skills." He grabbed Franco by the collar and looked down at him menacingly. Franco was small and easily intimidated already, but next to Martin he seemed to shrink even smaller.  
  
"Leave him alone!" I grabbed Martin's arm and tried to pull it off of Franco.  
  
"What's going on here?" Snape was coming out of the Great Hall. "Go on, get to your Common Rooms," he said to the crowd which had begun to form. They slowly started to leave, rather unhappily. I'm sure most people enjoyed seeing a good fight.  
  
Martin, meanwhile, had released his grip on Franco and was attempting to look cute and innocent, a very difficult feat for him.  
  
"Oh, good evening, Professor," he said in a sickly sweet voice. "I was just telling some jokes to my pal Polley here," he slapped Franco hard on the back. "Isn't that right, Polley?"  
  
"No," I said quietly. Then more loudly I said, "No, Professor. That's not the truth. Martin was harassing us. We were just minding our own business, Sir." I looked down at my feet. I felt awkward around Snape now. I wasn't quite sure to act whenever he was near.  
  
Snape was silent for a moment, then spoke.  
  
"Fifteen points from Slytherin, Mr. Malone," Martin's jaw dropped. "Now everyone back to their Common Rooms."  
  
I looked up at Snape, but couldn't exactly read his face. Fifteen points! From his own house!  
  
"Wow!" Franco whispered, as we climbed the staircase. "Snape NEVER takes points from his own house, especially not from Malone! I wonder what's gotten into him?"  
  
"Hmm," I replied.  
  



	7. Insectium

The next day I had Double Potions first thing in the morning. Despite his new treatment towards me, I was still wary of Snape, especially in his class. Potions was not my strongest subject, and Snape's sneers and looks of disgust didn't help my ability to do well in his class.  
  
_Maybe things will be different now_, I thought to myself as we left for the dungeons. _But don't get your hopes up._  
  
Franco and I went to our regular seats in the back of the classroom. Franco was glancing at Snape suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"I still can't figure it out. Fifteen points, from his own house," he mumbled.  
  
"Maybe it was just a temporary moment of insanity," I whispered impatiently. I wished Franco would stop going on about Snape.  
  
"Calm down," Snape said coldly to the class, and the room fell silent. "Today we will attempt a new potion, a simple repellant elixir. With this potion you will be able to ward of many types of unfortunate insects and other small creatures. It is not a difficult potion, but I expect that very few of you will be able to complete it," He turned and looked at Franco, but saw me staring at him and quickly turned away. Perhaps I was expecting too much of him, after all. "Directions are on the board. Begin."  
  
"Not very difficult, my arse," Franco muttered.  
  
"Yeah," I replied, but really I wasn't having much trouble with it at all. _If you simply pay close attention to the ingredients and your cauldron, things work out quite the way they should_, I said to myself. Why didn't I realize this before? I was doing very well. I hadn't missed any ingredients or steps so far, and I felt almost, confident. Snape wasn't sweeping by every few minutes making snide comments. My hands weren't shaking as they usually did. I felt calm and almost pleased. So this was why Snape had so much passion for Potions, I thought. A cauldron will never let you down if you treat it the way you are supposed to.  
  
Finally, I added my last ingredient, Wormstooth, and stirred the cauldron seventeen times counterclockwise. I filled my vial with the potion, which had turned a peachy color, and brought it up to Professor Snape's desk.  
  
"Excellent color," Snape said softly, looking up from the papers he was correcting.  
  
"Thank you, Professor," I said and went back to my seat. I couldn't help but beam. For once I had done something right. For some reason, his approval was much more important now than anyone else's, even my Father's.  
  
When everyone had finished and bottled up their potion samples, Snape announced that there were a few minutes left of the class to test some of our potions.  
  
"Let's try...this one." He reached for a potion and to my horror chose mine. Sure it had been the right color, but would it work? Snape looked at the label, though I'm positive that he knew it was mine all along. "Miss Cockerham, up to the front."  
  
Trembling, I walked to the front of the classroom and Snape handed me my bottle. I took a nervous gulp and made a face. It tasted like rotten asparagus. Snape raised his wand.  
  
"Insectium!" A small swarm of many types of strange insects began to buzz around me. For a moment I thought I had failed and that these bugs were going to eat me alive, but then I realized that they could not reach me. It was as if there was an invisible bubble surrounding me. They tried to get to my arms and face, but with only bounced back and buzzed more louldly.  
  
"Eeew," Leila squealed. "Make them go away before they try to sting the rest of us!"  
  
Almost on command, the insects began to disappear with a 'Pop' until none were left.  
  
"Nice work, Ten points to Ravenclaw, Miss Cockerham," Snape said.  
  
"Thank you," I returned to my seat with a smile creeping across my face. Snape wanted to test me, and I passed! With flying colors!  
  
Franco was gawking at me with his mouth open and I was suddenly very interested in my hands. Fortunately, the bell rang before he could speak and the class filed out. Franco opened his mouth again as I was packing up my things into my bag but I pretended not to notice that he wanted to talk to me.   
  
"Oh!" I gasped as I knocked a book off of the table. I bent down to pick it up and felt a hand brush my fingers. I looked up and saw Snape holding the book.  
  
"Thank you, Professor," I said quietly. I felt my face beginning to get hot. Why was I so embarrassed?  
  
"Nice work today Miss Cockerham. I see improvement." He didn't have a sarcastic look on his face. He seemed genuinely pleased.  
  
"Thank you," I said again, this time in almost a whisper. Snape nodded and returned to his desk.   
  
I grabbed my bag and quickly walked out, Franco half-running behind me.  
  
"What was that about?" Franco exclaimed as we left the dungeons.  
  
"I don't know," I said, not looking at his face.  
  
"You know..." said Franco timidly. "I almost think he's got a _thing_ for you. What really went on in those detentions?"  
  
"Franco!" I screamed, spinning around and hitting him with my bag. "Don't be disgusting! I did well today, that's all! He would have done the same for anyone," I explained, but in my head I wasn't quite so sure if he would have done the same for anyone else...  
  
Now it was Franco's turn to 'hmm'. 


	8. Owl Post

Isn't it always when things are going so well when something completely bad has to come along and foul things up?  
  
I was doing well in all of my classes, Potions included. I was also having fun for once. It was nice to cut loose and laugh out loud. I knew why I had this sudden change in spirits, but I denied it. _No, Snape could not be the reason why I feel so lighthearted now_, I told myself. But in fact, he was. Telling him about my mother's death had lifted a great weight off my shoulders. Not to mention my newfound expertise in Potions. I was improving each day and was soon catching up to the best in the class.  
  
"Franco, I wish you would stop looking at me like that," I grumbled after another good day in Potions.  
  
"What _did_ happen in those detentions?"  
  
"Nothing! He had me clean things and that. Stop being such a git."  
  
"It's just funny, that's all."  
  
"Oh, yes, really funny."  
  
"Not like funny ha-ha, funny queer..."  
  
"Maybe Snape's just in a good mood because he's made progress on developing a new sneer or something." Franco snorted, but I immediately felt guilty for making fun of him. I did have to change the subject somehow, though. I didn't know how much more badgering I could take from Franco.  
  
What had happened with the diary and Professor Snape was private, and besides, Franco could possibly know what it was like to have no Mother and a horrible Father. Franco's parents were muggles, and they were extremely kind and pleasant.  
  
I quickly pushed the negative thoughts out of my head.  
  
"Hogsmeade this weekend!" Franco said happily the next morning at breakfast. "Do you want me to bring back the usual?"  
  
"Yeah, and extra Fizzing Whizbees too. I love those things," I said as we sat down at the Ravenclaw table.  
  
"I wish your dad would let you go."  
  
"Yeah," I sighed. "Me too, but it's okay. I'm perfectly--" I stopped in mid-sentence as the wooshing of the owl post filled the great hall.  
  
A large brown owl swooped down and dropped a small ivory envelope onto my empty plate.  
  
"I never get mail," I said, picking up the letter and tearing it open. "It's from my aunt Agnes, how odd..."  
  
"What's wrong?" Franco asked as I slowly set the letter back down on the table.  
  
"It's my father," I said slowly. "He's gone and gotten himself killed."  
  
Franco stared at me with his mouth hanging open, not knowing what to say.  
  
"Excuse me," I said and got up from the table. I briefly glanced up at the staff table as I walked across the great hall to the door. Snape was watching me, his eyes following my steps. I simply stared back, my face as emotionless and hard as I could make it, and did not turn away until I was out the door. 


	9. Advice

I didn't know where I was going or why, but I knew that I had to get out. I shoved open the gigantic doors of the castle and hesitated for only a moment at the sight of the torrential rain falling outside. I walked out into it, down the steps, and onto the soggy grounds. I paused and lifted my face up to the sky. Drops of rain beat down on me and stung my skin. My robes were soaked, but I didn't care. If _he_ got to be reckless, why shouldn't I? Impulsively, I headed toward the Forbidden Forest. My feet seemed to be disconnected from my brain. They simple led me forward across the grass and I followed. In my mind I was repeating the lines of Aunt Agnes' note over and over.  
  
_Meta,  
  
In case you care, (which you probably don't) I regret to inform you that my dear brother and your beloved father has been killed. There was an argument with a goblin and he has been murdered.  
  
In any case, enjoy the rest of your day.  
  
Sincerely,  
Agnes P. Cockerham_  
  
Aunt Agnes. I always hated her. I hated my father, but she hated him even more, and she always acted like she loved him more than anything in the world. It made me want to vomit when she would kiss up to my Father and then, as soon as his back was turned would make a face of contempt.  
  
"She only wanted his money," I grumbled to myself. "Well, now she's got it, no doubt."  
  
As I said this I realized that I was standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I stood there for a moment, with half a mind to step in and see what would happen to me, but a voice called out my name.  
  
"Miss Cockerham!"  
  
I jumped and slowly turned around. Standing in front of me was a completely dry Professor Snape. He had a strange look on his face, I almost thought it looked like worry.  
  
"Mr. Polley told me you would be out here. He said you have received a letter," Snape said.  
  
"Yes." I suddenly felt very cold. I attempted to pull my robes tighter to my body for warmth, but as they were soaking wet, it didn't have much effect.  
  
"_Evaparo!_" Snape called out, his wand pointed at me. Suddenly I was completely dry and warm again, and no raindrops were hitting me. It was as if an invisible umbrella was over me. "Let's get you back to the castle," Snape said, and uncharacteristically put his hand on my shoulder and gently coaxed me back up towards the castle. After a few steps he let his hand fall and we walked in silence, side by side, but about a foot between us.  
  
When we were back inside the castle doors Professor Snape said,  
  
"Well, it seems that classes have already started," motioning toward the empty Great Hall. "But given your circumstances, I'm sure you are excused from your classes today. Polley will get your assignments for you, no doubt."  
  
"Yes," I said numbly. Snape nodded and began to walk away. "Wait!" I called out. "Sir, could I speak with you for a moment?" He looked surprised but nodded again and motioned for me to follow him to his office. We walked to the dungeons in an awkward silence once again. I watched the back of his head intently as we went along through the dimly lit corridors, as if I would be able to read his mind if I stared hard enough.  
  
"Have a seat," he said, pointing to a chair as we entered his office. He sat down as well and crossed his arms over his chest, but this time not to appear menacing, but simply out of habit.  
  
"I know I should be sad," I began timidly, "But I'm not." When Snape didn't say anything I went on, staring at my hands in my lap. "He was my father after all, that should mean something, shouldn't it? But I'm not sad... I'm angry." Silence from Snape, so I continued. "I'm angry at him, because now I'll probably have to live with my wretched aunt Agnes, who's possibly more loathsome than my father!" I said angrily. "All because he probably made some shifty 'business' deal like he usually does. And worst of all, they're going to bury him next to my mother, I just know it! The very man who drove her to-to do what she did, resting by her for all eternity." I looked up at Snape. "I just wanted to talk to you because, well, I thought you might understand." His silence had made me feel very sheepish.  
  
"Yes," he said standing up and fidgeting unconciously with some books on his bookshelf. "I do understand."  
  
I couldn't see his face well because hiss office was dimly lit, but it seemed to me that he was facing some sort of inner turmoil.  
  
"Let me be honest, Miss Cockerham. I don't want to like you," he said, avoiding my eyes. "I've tried very hard, in fact, to hate you. You stole my mother's diary, read it, called me disgusting--"  
  
"Oh, Professor! I feel awful about that!"  
  
"Never mind. That doesn't matter," he said. "The thing is, I don't hate you. I rather, _like_ you," he said softly, making a funny grimace. "And what you are saying about your father, that's exactly how I felt about my father when he died."  
  
Snape liked me! "Wh- when did your father die?" I managed to say, though my face was burning and my hands trembling.   
  
"When I was nineteen. He was an old man already by then. My mother had died a few years earlier, but she was still so young. I guess living with him had prematurely aged her." He was staring into space, no doubt reliving many terrible memories.  
  
"I'm sorry," I whispered.  
  
"I'm the one who should be sorry," Snape said almost apologetically. "You are the one who's father just died."  
  
"But..." I said, "For some reason I feel relieved. Is that sick?" I looked pleadingly into his face.  
  
"No! No, it's not sick." He cautiously walked over to my chair and crouched down next to it. I looked down at him. I felt so nervous. For a foolish moment I wondered if my hair looked alright. "It will take you quite some time to even begin to forgive and understand your father." His face was very close to mine, and he was looking up at me very, very intently. "But don't let yourself become bitter and hard," he said quietly. "Like me," he whispered.  
  
"Professor!" I whispered and impulsively threw my arms around his neck. He made a surprised sound but put his arms around me as well. I let go of him and and got out of my chair. He stood up again as well.   
  
"There is hope for you still," I said, and leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.  
  
As quickly as I could I turned around and swept out of the room, leaving Snape standing in his office with a very confused and shocked look on his face. 


	10. The Handkerchief

By that evening, everyone seemed to know about my Father's unfortunate demise. The stories surrounding his death varied, and as I didn't even know the exact details myself, I couldn't really rule any of the wild tales I overheard. My father was well known in the wizarding world as a shrewd and ruthless business owner and entrepreneur, so it wasn't very surprising to see a large article about his death in the Daily Prophet the next day.  
  
"Well, he made the front page," I said, grimly looking at the large black and white photograph of him scowling back at me. "He would have been pleased about that," I added.  
  
Franco made a small noise of agreement and pretended to be concentrating a buttering his toast.  
  
"Oh, Franco!" I shouted, a little louder than I meant to, because a few people turned to look at me. "I hardly even knew him," I began more quietly. "He was just this big, ugly, yelling thing whose house I lived in for a few months of the year. Don't be afraid to look at me."  
  
"Sorry... It's just that if my father died, I'd be really upset, that's all," he said quietly.  
  
"Yeah, well, you have decent parents don't you? Franco, it's just like every other day. Don't act any differently around me, alright?"  
  
"Okay," he said, then game me a toothy grin and began telling me how he had overheard Chloe St. Francis talking about how my father wasn't really dead, but had staged his death by using a clever 'ro-bat' ("Muggles use ro-bats all of the time to do that sort of thing," Chloe said) and then escaped to New Zealand.   
  
"Well, this article should set Chloe straight. It says that my father was killed when a group of renegade goblins cornered him in Knockturn Alley. 'Exact details are as of yet not clear, but it is believed that Howard Cockerham attempted to cheat the goblins, currently at large, in a business deal.' Big surprise," I said. "Isn't it funny how I have to find out about my own father's death in the Daily Prophet? Aunt Agnes never was a big letter writer."  
  
"Is your Aunt really terrible?"  
  
"Well, other than being a back-stabbing, conniving, nasty old hag, she's a barrel of laughs."  
  
"I'm really sorry," Franco said sincerely. "Maybe you can come spend some time at our house this summer, if your Aunt lets you."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure she'd love to get me out of her hair for awhile. Thanks, Franco!"  
  
"Anytime," he said taking a large bite of his thickly buttered toast.  
  
The weeks passed by much too quickly from that point on. Every now and then someone would give me a pitying look in the corridors, but soon most Ravenclaws knew not to talk to me about my father or my Aunt Agnes. That topic quickly put me in a sullen mood no matter how happy I may have been. I was dreading spending an entire summer with Aunt Agnes, minus the week or two that I might be spending at the Polley's.  
  
I could tell that Professor Snape was a bit embarrassed to be near me after I had given him that peck on the cheek in his office. He tried to stay away from me during Potions class, perhaps because he did not want anyone to notice if he treated me any differently. It seemed to be working. Franco had stopped badgering me about him and those detentions. Even outside of class, Snape did not seem to know how to act towards me, nor did I know how to act towards him. A few times, we met going in opposite directions down a corridor or staircase, and he would only make a slight nodding movement with his head and then quickly walked away with his head down. At first his behavior toward me left me feeling very dejected, but then I reasoned through that. What else could I expect from Snape, anyway? Perhaps his aloofness was his form of affection. At least he wasn't sneering or yelling at me anymore, and anyway, he was my teacher. Anything else would be inappropriate, I told myself. Still, there was a tiny little twinge in my chest every time I saw him, and though I kept it to myself, I often wished he wasn't my teacher, and that I was just a bit older. Unfortunately for me, the end of the school year quicky came, and soon it was time for the end of the year feast.  
  
"Well," Franco said as we slowly went up to our common rooms, feeling very stuffed but content from the feast. "one more year and we'll be done with school. I think I'm really going to miss this place," he said looking affectionately around the common room.   
  
"Me too, believe it or not," I said. "I can't believe that next year is our seventh year. It seems like I've spent all of my life here. It's going to be strange not being at Hogwarts everyday."  
  
"Yeah," sighed Franco. "Well, I suppose that we better go pack a bit."  
  
I packed up my trunk slowly that night, thinking about the year, in particular, the last few months. I feel asleep after lying awake in bed for nearly two hours, thoughts of Snape floating in and out of my head.  
  
"Come on, Meta!" Franco called from the bottom of the staircase the next morning.  
  
"I'm coming," I said yawning. "Oh, bloody hell," I yelled suddenly remembering something I had forgotten. I whipped around and ran back up the staircase. "I'll be right there, Franco! Go save me a seat in the carriage," I called out.  
  
I had almost forgotten the handkerchief. The night that he had given it to me I went up to my bed and stuffed it under my mattress, never intending to give it back.  
  
I ran up to the dormitory and lifted up the mattress. There was the green silk handkerchief with black embroidery lying flattened on top of the box spring. I snatched it up and stuffed it into the pocket of my robes and ran back out the empty dormitory and common rooms.  
  
I turned a corner in one of the corridors and ran right into something very hard.   
  
"Oh! Sorry," I said, picking myself up off of the ground.  
  
"Miss Cockerham," I looked up and saw Professor Snape looking at me with a slightly amused look on his face. "I should have known it was you."  
  
"Sorry, Professor, I shouldn't have been running..."  
  
"Hmm, well, it's quite alright," he said and began to walk away.  
  
"Miss Cockerham," he called out. I turned around and to my horror saw Snape holding the handkerchief. "You've dropped something," he said, walking over to me with that amused look on his face again.  
  
"Thank you," I mumbled, my face burning with embarrassment. He held out his hand and I grabbed the handkerchief, my fingers brushing his as I took it. I felt my cheeks flush even more.  
  
"Have a nice holiday, Miss Cockerham," he said. "See you in the fall."  
  
"Goodbye, Professor," I said, not managing to suppress the smile that was spreading on my face. Snape nodded again we both continued our seperate ways down the corridor.  
  
I finally reached the carriage where Franco was waiting a few minutes later.  
  
"Final-- hey, what's up with you?" He asked, noticing my still-red cheeks and the slight smile on my face.  
  
"Oh, nothing," I said cheerfully.  
  
Franco gave me one last suspicous look and we rode to the train station in silence, my hand wrapped around the handkerchief in my pocket the entire time.  
  
"See you in the fall," I whispered to myself.  
  
  
-----------  
Well! That's it for this story! I'm seriously thinking of writing a sequel... I've got a few ideas swirling around in my brain, but it may take me a while to put it up. Thank you so much for reading!  



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